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Updated: June 2, 2025
It was his brain that conceived the rapid transfer of the Valley army from the one side of the Massanuttons to the other, the march that surprised Kenly and drove Banks in panic to the Potomac. It was his brain that conceived the double victory of Cross Keys and Port Republic; and if Lee's strategy was brilliant, that displayed by Jackson on the minor theatre of war was no less masterly.
They were now in the division of the great valley known as the Luray, and only when they stopped did Harry and his comrades of the staff learn that the Northern army under Kenly was only ten miles away at Front Royal. The preceding night had been one of great confidence, even of light-heartedness in Washington. The worn and melancholy President felt that a triumphant issue of the war was at hand.
Three hours after the attack had been made, an orderly covered with dust galloped into his camp and told him that Kenly was pressed hard he did not know the full truth himself. Banks, whose own force was cut down by heavy drafts to the eastward, was half incredulous. It was impossible that Jackson could be at Front Royal.
The famous rebel yell, which had in it the menacing quality of the Indian war whoop, was already rolling from the half circle of the attacking army, as it rushed forward. Kenly hung to his ground, fighting with the courage of desperation, and holding off for a little while the gray masses that rushed upon him.
The bundle was full of food, dried meat and canned goods and a small sack of flour. They were some of the supplies that to save himself the work of caring for, the faithless Vosper had discarded when, with Kenly, he had turned back from the river. At the end of three bitter days, Bill Bronson stood once more on the hill that looked down upon the old mining camp.
On the twenty-third of May a thousand Federals under Colonel Kenly were sweltering in the first hot weather of the year at Stanton's indefensible position of Front Royal when suddenly a long gray line of skirmishers emerged from the woods, the Confederate bugles rang out, and Jackson's battle line appeared. Then came a crashing volley, which drove in the Federal pickets for their lives.
Then came a lull, and many anxious inquiries: "What is it? Is it Stonewall Jackson, or only a cavalry raid?" A few hours later reports came in from the field of battle, and Banks telegraphed to Stanton that 5000 rebels had driven Kenly back on Middletown. "The force," he added, "has been gathering in the mountains, it is said, since Wednesday." But still the Federal general showed no undue alarm.
He stooped swiftly, caught it up and set it on the bough again, then ran on, he and all his men, under a storm of shot and shell. Kenly, a gallant soldier, caught, through no fault of his, in a powerful trap, manoeuvred ably. His guns were well served, and while they stayed for a moment the Confederate advance, he made dispositions for a determined stand.
His latest information, previous to the attack on Kenly, told him that Jackson's trains were arriving at Harrisonburg on the 20th, and he should certainly have inferred that Jackson was in advance of his waggons.
Here and there, now and again, a trooper went down to the dust, and the riderless horse, galloping to the rear, brought small comfort to Kenly's retreating companies. At last there rode back the major commanding the New York squadron. "We're losing too heavily, colonel! There's a feverishness if they're reinforced I don't know if I can hold the men " Kenly debated within himself, then.
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